Chapter Text
The night was cold, rain dripping lazily from the sky and landing on anyone unlucky enough to be outside. Haruka pulled her trench coat tighter around herself and stepped out onto the street. The lights of the bars and 24-hour restaurants were neon atrocities against a sky with no stars. Shivering, she walked briskly past several more reputable establishments before ducking into a rather shady-looking hole-in-the-wall called Crystal Tokyo. Crystal Tokyo once had a thriving night crowd, but it fell out of favor when the proprietor, Usagi Tsukino, was accused of murder. The charges had been dropped, but the bar's atmosphere had never been the same.
Haruka sat at the bar, tapping three times on the grimy wood to get Usagi’s attention. Usagi smiled brightly.
“Haruka, just the woman I wanted to see.” Of course. On a night like this, Usagi was certain to have a job for her. She slid a Paloma across the bar to her. An easy job. At least that’s usually what Paloma meant. Anything darker and Haruka would have simply refused. Haruka lifted the glass and took a gulp. The drink code was a second language within Haruka’s organization, and there was no one better than Usagi. The cheery bartender may have been cleared of the murder charges, but that certainly didn’t mean she didn’t do it. Far from it, in fact.
“What’s the soda?” Haruka asked, continuing the encrypted conversation.
“Grapefruit Jarritos.” Usagi replied casually. Haruka paused mid sip, raising an eyebrow.
Jarritos.
A high-end job.
Usagi looked at Haruka, as though daring her to refuse after she’d already accepted the drink.
“Usagi…”
“I’ve got something for you in the back.” The bartender replied, answering the unuttered question.
Haruka sighed and stood from her stool, leaving the glass on the table. She adjusted her heavy coat and walked innocently into the women’s bathroom. Once inside, she made sure all the stalls were empty before pulling on the wall-length mirror the bar’s entertainers used for makeup. The mirror swung open, admitting Haruka to a secret hallway leading to the back of the bar. Usagi was already waiting for her, lounging casually atop a carpeted billiards table.
“So. What’s the job?” Haruka asked, mincing no words on formalities. Usagi grinned in a way that made Haruka nervous. Usagi handed her a yellow folder marked with a glittery purple star sticker. Purple meant kidnapping. Haruka took it, dread building in her stomach. She opened the file, reading through a list of dates, locations, and everything one could need to know about the target. She flipped to the last page, where she found a photograph.
Tailored coat.
Perfect posture.
Aquamarine hair.
Haruka stared for a moment. The family resemblance told her before the name below did. Michiru Kaiou.
“You want me to kidnap one of those Kaious?” she asked incredulously. Usagi smiled sweetly.
“Just think of the ransom money this will bring in.”
“And here I thought this was supposed to be easy.” Haruka grumbled, closing the file.
“It will be,” Usagi said, “Ms. Kaiou is on vacation with minimal supervision this week. Setsuna’s sources say she’ll be attending the performance of La Traviata tomorrow at the Tokyo Bunka Kaikan. I’ve already gotten you tickets.”
“And how am I supposed to kidnap her from an opera house?” Haruka asked.
“She’ll be seated in the top floor balcony seats. I’ve ensured that your seat is nearby. Most importantly, she will be attending alone. You will be able to use your particular charm to lure her away during an intermission. You only have to get her to the elevator, where Seiya will be waiting to take her to the safe house.” Haruka winced. She already knew what Usagi meant by particular charm.
A tailored suit.
A borrowed name.
A deeper voice.
All an act to make another woman trust her. The attraction would begin as an act, on her side at least, but should it ever change, there would be no honest way out. She hated using attraction as a weapon, or a weakness to be exploited. It felt deceptive and disingenuous, but it had to be done. Of course, if the target were male, the routine was worse. Usagi would force her into one of her atrocious wigs, insisting it would “make her look like a woman instead of a femboy.”
Haruka opened the file once more, pulling out the photo. Tomorrow could be fun, Haruka liked to think she had few weaknesses, but beautiful women were certainly one.